


mallcopdad

by indiscreetdaddykink



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alcoholism, Crack, Cuddling, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, contemporary texas au, mutual anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiscreetdaddykink/pseuds/indiscreetdaddykink
Summary: Officer Percival Graves loses everything, including his delusions of heterosexuality. Only an anxious punk transplant from New York can help him get over his shit.





	mallcopdad

**Author's Note:**

> please forgive the quality of this work, I'm wholly unfamiliar with this whole "love/intimacy" deal and just kinda guessed. By request of ____________
> 
> Also most of this is deeply unedited but I promised to throw it up here so yeah sorry

A virile but aging, fit, but just graying man slouches slightly in his uniform, staring passively at the desk in front of him. The creature sitting at it raggedly clears it’s throat, then growls. “Yer off the force Percy. Abernathy says you’ve been checkin’ him out in the locker room, now everyone knows yas a nancy boy.” The other man snaps back to reality and stands up straight. “What was that chief?” he says, a moment later adding “And it’s Percival by the way, or just Graves”, pausing again before concluding with an apologetic “Er, sir”. “Gimme your badge an’ yur gun and git queer boy! You can’t be eye fuckin’ Abernathy, we won’t have it! GIT” the chief concluded with a volume of spittle. Percival’s jaw dropped, and he left it open as he searched for words to say with it. He failed, shook his head, then ripped off his badge and holster and dropped them angrily on the desk. He stormed out of the building in the most professional manner he could, ignoring the cries about paperwork emanating from the room he’d just left. 

Outside, Percival sat on the hood of his car and stared at his last place of employment. It wasn’t so much the firing that offended him, he’d seen that coming; no what really offended him was that the guys had accused him of lusting after Abernathy of all people! Percival Graves was sure he had no interest in men, and he had been especially sure of this ever since he moved to Dallas. He hadn’t been close to a man in decades; every day he reminded himself that was just a phase he’d long left behind. Sure, maybe his eyes wandered in the showers, but whose don’t? Certainly, his wouldn’t linger on that scrawny nerd. He shook his head, slid off the hood of his car then entered it. Before he’d even fully sat down, his arm had dug into the glove compartment and retrieved a shiny, scalding hot hipflask. He started the engine and took a long drink. His thoughts wandered back to the locker room as he felt himself relax, reaching across the cabin the hide the flask again. He almost dozed off as that comfy tingle spread to the tips of his limbs in his oven of a sedan, but then a thought broke his peace. “Oh shit, my mortgage!”

 

Percival Graves was again zoning out and slouching in his uniform, this time staring at but not really seeing a tacky concrete fountain. A scream echoed through the building and roused him, but it was just a gaggle of teenagers having too much fun. He considered chasing them off, but as his eyes wandered down to his badge, labeled “MALL SECURITY” in chintzy, embossed plastic letters, he knew it wasn’t worth the effort. He wondered what was about this job; he got less than no respect and he never got to detain anyone. It felt like a cruel joke, a parody of the career he’d spent his life building. He patted his leg, checking to see if the flask was still there.. It was, but he was sure it wasn’t comfort enough for whatever kind of bullshit this place would throw at him today.

The rapid clacking of plastic wheels across tile disturbed the staring contest Graves was having with his lunch. As the clatter came closer he shot out of his seat, excited at the prospect of ejecting some punk skater; one of the few sorts of delinquents he was allowed to handle personally. He started walking towards the corner all the noise was behind, but all the commotion beat him around it. Though moments before he was ready to tackle a fool, all percy could do now was jump out of the way and stare; stare at floppy mess of hair atop that entirely too pretty face; at the tight, high-waisted jeans that concealed nothing and the tiny scrap of a shirt that covered even less. Stare as them glutes independently yet in concert pop the front of the board up and drag it into the air. He was helpless to look away as the whole gorgeous mess landed half on the rim of the fountain then fell violently in.

Graves started slowly towards the accident, focused far more on the limp body than on his own dragging feet. He could now see everything, the previously immodest top was now absolutely invisible, and those pants now clung tighter than he’d thought possible. It took a crowd gathering around them to get Graves to step forward and drag the face-down bubbling boy out of the water by his armpits. “Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww” he groaned as blood ran from a gash across his brow. He hung limp in Percy’s arm, staring up at him. “Well shit” he said, almost contentedly

 

The boy was dead weight all the way up to Grave’s office. He had no more words after his initial statement, just exaggerated groans and winces. When he dropped him, still dripping, into his littel interrogation chair, the young man just stared at him as blood gucjed from his split eyebrow. Graves stared back for a moment, but he couldn’t just stand by. He shook his head, walked over to his desk and yanked open the first drawer with a glassy clatter. He fishes through the bottles with a great deal of clinkink, extracting a roll of gauze, a tape dispenser and a sachet of alcohol wipes. He walked back around the desk and sat on it before leaning over his detainee and ripping open the packet just under his nose. He sets to cleaning the wound and the scratches around it, pretending to ignore the genuine whimpers and winces from his patient. After a last good squeeze onto the cut that just about brought the boy to tears, he discarded the wipe and took a wad of gauze to the face, pushing it back and behind the top of the chair. Frustrated at the lack of cooperation, Graves grabbed him and pressed the bandage in from both sides. “Ow, what the hell let go” he said, but the response was a soft “I don’t want you bleeding on my office”. Graves didn’t release his hands, but the young man didn’t move. “You learn your lesson?” asked Graves. The teen looked up at him with the widest eyes he could muster with his face in it’s current constraint and said “Of course officer, I’ll never skate again!” and pouted ironically. Graves rolled his eyes and sqeezed harder. “OW!”

“Stop bleeding or stop whining” Percival responded. He looked about, then added “You got a name?”. The young man looked away, thought for a moment, and said “Yeah, it’s Al”. “Al what?” Graves asked with suspicion. HIs captive smirked and said “Al Coholic”. Graves pressed the bandage again, turning it a bit this time and shredding the just-formed tissues. He cried out in response, Graves looked down and there were actual tears there this time. He suddenly realized how weird this all was, the kind of questions he’d get if someone knew what he was doing to the soaking wet probably-illegal teenager he’d just dragged into his office. He thought back to his prior work experience, rembembering exactly what to do when you fucked up: control the situation. He felt bad he’d hurt the kid, however slightly, but he had to make sure he didn’t lose his job over it. He grabbed his hand and placed it on the bandage. “Hold it” he said, “And what’s your real name?”

“Credence Barebone” he said. Graves turned away and dropped his face into his hand. “The fuck’s this prank name mean?” he thought, “Barebone? Is that like a gay joke or do I just have too much of that on my mind”. Graves turned back to him and repeated “Your real name?”

“And here come the doe eyes” Graves groaned internally. The boy stared at him, looking almost on the verge of tears, before looking down, shuddering just a little and saying “It-it’s Credence. Do you want my school ID, officer?” he’d looked back up at Graves with those last few words, with a thin trickle of tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Graves narrowed his in return, looking hurriedly for any sign of acting. He couldn’t quite tell, so he relaxed and extended the benefit of the doubt. He still had to control the situation so the kid wouldn’t tell anyone, but he could tell he didn’t have to play it too hard. He walked back around the desk and sat down. He propped himself upon the desk before leaning over his crossed arms, “So, er, Cr- young man, you understand we have a strict policy about skating or biking in here. The signs are everywhere, and it’s just for everyone’s safety” He leaned back and smiled “BUt I think you’ve learned your lesson. Have you?” Credence just stared him down and nodded. ‘Fuck, his eyes are so wide, he’s terrified’ thought graves, but he didn’t look away. Instead he reflected on how cute they struck him as, the phrase “puppy dog eyes” occured to him, albeit without any of the innocence.

“Still, we’re going to have to give you a temporary ban” Graves groaned externally, “I’m going to need your home phone, full name, your parents names and your address” Credence cringed at the word ‘parents’, and stopped staing at graves, instead again looking down. “Well?” the boy inhaled at his request, but still took a moment before responding “I ah… I don’t know the address or number here, and I don’t… I don’t live with my parents”. The last few words were delivered in something between a mumble and a squeak, and Graves immediately felt like the biggest piece of shit he’d ever met. “Sor- uh, oh, that’s uh, fine… Credence. Who are you … staying with?” Graves posed, as delicately as he could. Credence shuddered on hearing his name and Percy felt even worse for him, but when he spoke again he sounded almost happy, if shaken “My, uhm, ‘foster ma’ I guess, Miss Scamander; but she asks me to ca-...” he trailed off, looking back at his lap. Graves had never met anyone this shy, and he really didn’t want to think about how cute he found it.

“So, you don’t know your address?”

Credence shook his head

“You don’t know the phone number”

Credence shook his head

“How’re ya gonna get home, kid?” he asked.

“I uh, know the way. It’s just a couple miles”  
“I still need that address, and that number. ANd I should speak to your… guardian”

Credence cringed again at the last word. Graves wasn’t sure if it was that he brought it up at all, or just how he said it. He also wasn’t sure why he was following him home. No one was actually forcing him to put this ban through, and he knew that if this kid came back inside, it wouln’t be on a skateboard. But somehow he couldn’t leave him alone. “How ‘bout I give you a ride son?” He looked up at him, eyes full of disbelief. He nodded, just once, but with as much enthusiasm as pne can squeeze into one nod. And for the first time he smiled; really smiled. Graves couldn’t help but smile too.

 

They both put real emphasis into how they didn’t look at each other. Credence had guided him into his housing complex, promised to tell him when to turn, and went totally silent. Graves wondered at times if he’d missed the turn, but he couldn’t be the one to break this silence, so instead he stared; stared at the empty sky, the endless rows of practically identical, mostly empty house, at the slim variety of pickup trucks parked here and there; at anything but Credence. But despite his effort, the young man’s name flashed across his mind the whole time in contexts he was really trying not to put it in. He wondered what the boy himself was thinking, and if he was thinking of Graves.

Credence was thinking of Graves. How couldn’t he? He had to keep his face practically glued to the window just to avoid staring. His mind was skittering over the day’s events; it almost didn’t feel real how this man he’d only ever admired from a distance had fucking held him, and now he was in his car! He hadn’t once thought about the cut still dripping blood past his eye since he’d left the office, and the notion he might disappoint Lili only toubled him slightly; he just couldn’t focus on such trivialities with this man so close. He couldn’t even stop smiling

The houses outside slowly meandered past, but Credence looked right through him. He was in his own world, where the only senses he had eyes for were sound and smell. The heavy, predictable breathing from behind him made him shudder, made him hope Graves was looking at him. And the smell! It was that sweat-and-cologne smell that only attractive men seem to produce, not unlike the way his favorite sweater used to smell. And there was something else under it, some spirit Credence thought, but he couldn’t identify which. Not that he was an expert, but it didn’t have any any of the distinct fragrances with which he’d become passingly acquainted in those last few months in New York. But it wasn’t just alcohol, there was something just under the cologne he couldn’t quite pick out. All he could call it was “floral”. And that was enough, it smelled nice, especially mixed with him. Maybe it was him. He did seem rather miffed at that “Al Coholic” quip.

The car craweld to a stop and Creddence unslouched from his reverie. He looked around, seeing the infinite field at the end of his complex, and stealing a glance at Graves. He was staring dead ahead, hands on the wheel, nearly motionless. Credence hadn’t called out the turn. He suddenly involuntarily brought his knees to his chest and hugged them, whispering a “sorry” between stifled sobs. Graves offered surprisingly little reaction, only raising an eyebrow and asking “Did I miss the turn?” Credence calmed down through a sniffling attack, swallowed and answered “yeah”. “That’s alright” offered Graves, placing a hand on Credence’s far shoulder and immediately stopping his shaking. They stayed there for a moment, in total silence except for the idling engine; Graves giving Credence the occaisional gentle squeeze, Credence giving a tiny gasp and leaning harder into the arm each time. Graves eventually drifted back to the physical world beyond what he was immediately touching, and looked down at the clock. He seemed to notice the surprising length of time he’d been holding Credence; then he noticed that Credence, head still buried in his knees, was fully in the crook of his shoulder. Then he noticed he couldn’t feel anything below that shoulder, and started to delicatley disentangle himself.

Graves shook his eyes, and Credence bared his head. His eyes were red, but he was smiling again. Graves went to take the car out of park, only to notice it was in drive and he’d been on the brake this whole time. He started laughing, Credence stared confused for a moment, and he had no idea what was funny, but he was soon laughing too. The car lurched back around and they laughed together, now at nothing but each other

 

Let’s just skip ahead to the part I’m writing this around. They’ve had a few more supremely awkward encounters, prolly at the mall I guess, but’ve sorta become “friends” Maybe Credence’s been in grave’s house a few times, or Graves in Credence’s room! Well anyways, it’s the fourth and the little block of blocks that happens to include both of their homes is throwing a block party and amatuer fireworks display.

Graves sat at a plastic mall bench, enjoying his usual lunch of cheap coffee with a splash of something extra. Though it surprised him, he didn’t react as a pair of arms slowly draped themselves over his chest. “So you comin’ to the party?” came a whisper in his ear. Graves groaned and said “It’s my birthday, and I’m spending it with my best friends” Credence rolled his eyes and responded “Well can I come too?” with adorable insincerity. “Sorry kid, y’ain’t old enough for my crew” said Graves, finally failing at his commitment to not smiling. “Oh c’mooon!” whined Credence “The only thing sadder than drinking alone is drinking alone on your birthday. Why not just bring your friends to the party?” Everyone will love ‘em!” Graves flopped his head back onto the edge of the bench, sighed and said “Ugh, fine, I’ll come. But I’m not sharin’ no booze. And get your hands offa’ me, we’re in public”

Credence smiled and skipped away.

It wasn’t hard to find Credence at the party. It seems like everyone had heard what’d happened to Queenie’s punch except Queenie herself, despite how much of it she’d had at that point. She wasn’t far, dancing with her plump-but-cute husband who’d baked the tasty, yet abstract frosted things next to the punch. Also next to the punch, right where Graves knew he’d be was Credence. He hung back a moment before approaching, watching him refill his plastic cup for a third time. Graves managed to stifle his chuckle to a smirk as he approached for a refill. “Come here often?” he said as he ladled his cup full. Credence somehow managed to go even redder and replied “All the time, you?”. Percival smiled wide and swayed a little before looking wistfully at the horizon and saying “No, but this real cutie begged me to come. Just couldn’t let ‘em down.” He looked Credence in the eyes and grinned like a moron.

Credence looked him up and down, admiring his nearly transparent with sweaty tank top and the two bulges near his belt. Graves stared right back, leering up from those bare feet, lingering on the bare skin between his high-waisted, tight jeans and practically nonexistant top; finally meeting Credence’s gaze. The boy looked back to their feet and chewed on his smile as worked up the courage to say “Uhm, so, ah, the sun is,uh” He took another swig of punch as Graves stared expectantly. Credence cleared his throat and squared his shoulders before continuing “The sun is going down and I think that show was gonna start soon. D-did you wanna watch it with me?” Graves did everything he could to not burst into laughter and bearhug this boy. He managed to knock it down to a chuckle as he grabbed his hand. “Of course” Graves said, “You kidding? You’re the whole reason I came to this dumb thing.” Credence squealed mostly internally, flashed an overjoyed, openmouthed grin at Graves, then turned about-face and started to run. Graves didn’t let him draw their arms taut. 

He didn’t bother asking where they were going, he was far too distracted by the legs pumping in front of him. Gradually they slowed to a jog, then a walk and despite keeping pace he found himself abreast his date if not slightly ahead. Only now did he notice that Credence had dragged him far from the party, past rows of empty houses; straight towards the empty fields bordering the complex. Graves laughed and asked “Where are you taking me?! I’ll scream!” Credence looked down, shook his head, then drew their arms together and squeezed his hand. “You’ll see” he said before dragging him up the last hill.

Just as the crested the highest peak of their little field, Credence flopped down onto the blanket he’d set up earlier, dragging Graves down atop him. He sidled off, immediately noticing the bottle of wine sticking out of a bucket beside them. “Where’d you get that? Y’know I’m gonna have to confiscate it” Graves said with a smirk. Credence couldn’t quite figure out how serious he was, so he pouted pointedly and looked him in the eyes. Graves rolled his in response and said “Oh come on, you’re already hammered kid. We all saw what that weasel Abernathy did to the punch, and I can tell you’ve had a few refills by the way you stumbled us up here”. Credence continued to pout, looking away. “Am not” he said before looking away sullenly as he cuddled closer to Graves. “I know it when I see it kid. I’m something of an expert.” said Graves. Credence looked back up at his face and mewled “ I. am. not. Test me or something officer.” Graves propped himself up on his elbows in a vague parody opf sitting up straight. “Alright, stand on one foot and gimme the alphabet backwards” he said, and so Credence unlaced their fingers and wobblily straightened his legs under him, lifting one just a little off the blanket as he started to awkwardly sing “Z, Y, uh… X! And T, err, V; W-” “Start over, and bring that foot up to your butt or it doesn’t count” Graves interjected cracking his smuggest, sultriest grin yet. “UGGHHHH” Credence replied before obediently bending his knee all the way and throwing his arms out for stability. He sang “Z, I, X, Doubl-woah!” before falling across Graves’s lap. He scooped him up and drew him ontop of his chest before saying, “Told ya, you’re sauced”. Credence laid his head on his man’s chest in resignation. They lay there peacefully for a few moments, then Graves noticed a hand groping around his crotch. “Ay boy whaddaya think you’re doing?!” he said, and Credence sleepily mumbled back “Fair’s fair. If you get mine I get some’a yours” as he continued feeling around. ‘Nope, nope!’ thought Graves, ‘Yeah I can feel his on my thigh, but this can’t happen, not out here!’. He began flexing his ass to redirect the blood. Just as he’d settled down, Credence closed his hand around his bulge. Thankfully, that of the flask; he knew no amount of flexing could settle down what would happen otherwise.

“C’mon, I’m not even that drunk. We could share!” Slurred Credence as he gazed at Graves, admiring the color the sunset gave his undyed roots. Graves just smiled and squeezed him harder; again Credence started to pout, overacting with all of his might. Graves had to look up at the sky just to avoid laughing at the adorable view below, so Credence started taking matters and other things into his own hands. “Stop” giggled Graves, his voice betraying his true feelings despite him holding Credence’s hand right where it was, it’s fingers just slipping over the rim of his jeans. “Not my fault you keep your booze in your drawers” whispered Credence as his hand wriggled down into them. He deftly removed the flask without touching anything else, but then dropped it as he burst into laughter at how Graves’s pants tightened under him. They both move to grab it and their hands meet, then their eyes. Graves stared up at him as they shared a smile, missing the dimming lighting for his gorgeous subject. He slid his fingers into Credences, holding his hand over the flask. Credence crept his free hand up his side, and Graves tossed his over his back in return. Credence closed his eyes and pulled himself up to rest his head on Graves’ shoulder. He relaxed until he feeling likea fluid in Percy’s arms, and both could focus on nothing but how content they felt holding each other. Not even sudden explosions overhead could ruin the moment, though the rest of Credence went stiff atop him.

“It’s just the fireworks bud,” he cooed “look!” But instead of opening his eyes, he just held Graves tighter, digging painfully into his hand and ribs. He loved the feeling, but couldn’t stand the thought of his boy uncomfy. He stroked his bony back and whispered in his ear “Shhhhh, it’s alright. I thought you were excited for the fireworks; isn’t that why you dragged me out here?” At that, Credence relaxed a bit and opened his eyes, shaking his head as his smile returned. Graves cocked his head, then brought it closer and again whispered, “Then why baby?”. In response, Graves got to see the most adorably awkward show Credence had yed put on. He stared, then looked away, then stared again, shuddering with each BANG and flash behind them. Percy couldn’t help but chuckle at this display, and as if that was the cue he was waiting for, Credence darted up and kissed him. Innocently at first, little more than a peck on his upper lip before withdrawing, finally giving Graves his turn to shudder as he felt this young man’s breath across his face. But then, he parted them before bringing his lips back and stealing any trace of a thought in Percy’s head. And now even the roiling crescendo of pyrotechnics behind them didn’t shake Credence an inch.

All the explosive sights and sounds of the night were far away, and all that was real was the pair of lips writhing against his and drawing them apart, the sweet tongue brashly meeting his and sending shivers down his spine. Even after the moment was over and Credence withdrew from his face, he lay still, unable to even open his eyes for the waves of contentment washing over him like they hadn’t in years. He felt him sit up on his lap, and his own hand slide down that back to rest at the base. He would have laid there like that until he died, gladly, hadn’t he heard that familiar soft screech of a metal cap unscrewing.

His eyes fluttered open, and before him sat Credence. He looked up from where the seams of their jeans met up to the smirk attempting to overtake that sexily satiated smile across those lips. Percy tried to use the hand he only now noticed was empty to prop himself up and failed; instead he relaxed on the ground, cleared his throat and with the all obviously fake sternness he could manage grumbled “What a dirty trick, I said no”. “You’re calling me dirty? I mean you didn’t say no to kissing a young boy” Credence replied, seemingly over the kiss and feeling nothing but smarm. He pressed the flask to his lips and took a swig. Percy missed his admirable job acting like the whiskey went down easy, instead only seeing those lips wrapped around that of the flask. ‘The fuck just happened’ he reflected, ‘and how is he over it so quick, that was magical!’. He watched a trickle of booze run from his lips as he took the flask out of them, passing it to Graves and half-stifling a little cough. Graves stared, so Credence shook the flask in his face. He bit the neck, tilted his head back, then tossed it to the side once empty. Credence gave him another overacted pout before flopping down and his chest and snuggling back up to his shoulder. “S’what I get for sharing” whispered Credence in his ear before wrapping his arms around Percy’s neck. 

“How much whiskey do you drink?” Credence added, again teasing him for his rampant alcoholism. “I drink when I’m social” Percy responded, “And I’m social twenty-four seven.” He wrapped the sides of the blanket over them, and they laid there for hours with drunken smiles and occasional smooches playing across their faces; ostensibly watching the meagre amatuer fireworks popping off here and there for hours, but really only watching each other.

It must have been hours. But to Graves it’d felt like mere minutes; were it not for how much less the world was swaying around him he’d be sure of it. By now, the crickets played part in the ambiance more than the occasional burst of light. He noticed Credence didn’t even flinch now, and wondered if that was the whiskey’s fault, or just his. He wondered if he was even awake, so he asked. “Yeah”, came his response, sleepily enough that he reserved doubt. Credence yawned, stretched, and started to shiver, “You getting cold?” Percy asked. Credence nodded, and yawned into saying “Aaauuh-huh. Wanna go back to your place? It’s still your birthday, you know~!” In as much time as it took him to get the implicit offer, Graves was on his feet, still cradling Credence. He gently set him down, then grabbed the wine and his hand and restrained the urge to skip as he dragged the boy back the way they’d came.


End file.
